The River Desire Flows Both Ways
by Justine Samulet Delarge
Summary: Every time Dean creeps into bed next to Sammy and they play the little game they play in the dark, Dean feels guilty, so guilty for taking advantage of his little brother, for making him feel good when he shouldn't, for making him think he wants it when Dean knows he doesn't, he can't possibly, that it's all Dean's fault because Dean's weak and bad. Sam's getting real tired of i


No matter how many times Sammy whispered his big brother's name, pushed his hips up and arched his back, said, "yes" and "please" and "Dean," he could feel the guilt skittering off Dean like fleas. Could hear him blame himself, silently, even as he slipped into bed beside half-asleep Sammy yet again, took what he wanted, gave Sammy what he needed _should stop need to stop shouldn't be doing this supposed to protect him not molest him jesus all my fault_ a jagged litany in Dean's mind, staining what should have been pure, blinding-white pleasure with blood-thick shame _just once I'd like to come and feel better about myself afterwards Christ someone should take Sammy away from me before I ruin him god I'm ruining him oh god_.

Sam tried to counter it with his own litany, not uttered out loud, like Dean's sharp inner monologues were never given voice, but told through the way he bared his throat, the way he let his eyelids blink, slow and trusting, the way he sucked on Dean's tongue and broke apart for him, coming like a force of nature, spilling over Dean's fist gasping and writhing _love you Dean love you need this you hear me need this nobody but you only ever been you was made for you Dad gave me to you I'm FOR you I need this I know what I want can't you believe that I know what I want?_

Sam could hear Dean. But Dean could not hear Sam. Or he couldn't understand the language. His face was marred now by dark circles under his eyes. Sometimes he was unable to meet Sam's gaze in the light of day.

"Jesus, Dean, you look like Death. Get some sleep, wouldja?" John shoved clothing into his duffel seemingly at random.

Dean snorted as if to say sleep is for pussies.

"I'm serious, son. That's not a suggestion. That's an order. Get your ass upstairs and take a nap. I need you healthy."

"Yes sir."

John slung the duffel over his shoulder and ruffled his eldest son's hair. "I'll be back on Friday. Money's in the coffee can. Don't drink my beer." He smiled at Sam, draped over the couch like a complacent cat, able to rest comfortably with the most peculiar angles of limbs and head. "Sammy? Watch out for your big brother, ok? Make sure he gets some rest."

And with a rustle of brown leather and a hint of tobacco smoke, John strode out the door.

Dean rose to his feet, so weary he looked 30 instead of 18. "Gonna try to sleep, Sam. Keep it down?"

Sam stared at the book he'd been reading, as if trying to see where noise could possibly come from. "Sure."

Fifteen minutes later, Dean was in his boxers and a t-shirt, curled up under a blanket, fast asleep.

An hour later, Sam sat down on the mattress next to Dean, so quietly the springs barely squeaked.

He tugged the blanket down slowly, inch by inch. Dean lay on his back, one leg straight, the other bent at the knee, arms flung over his head. He gave a snore. A real one. Not faking it.

Sam pulled the blanket down to Dean's calves, and grazed the backs of his knuckles along Dean's inner thigh, eyes on the prize. On the thing that Dean had denied him, despite his begging. _God Dean please let me please let me want to so bad want to feel it inside me c'mon Dean let me at least suck it_

And Dean, wanting it so bad, written all over him in the way his hands clenched when his little brother begged him for his cock, how sweat beaded on his brow and his mouth tensed while he pushed Sam back down- "No fucking way Sam. Just this. Just this…"- and jacked Sammy off, fisting his own cock at the same time.

Dean wanted it. Wouldn't let himself have it. Didn't believe Sam really wanted it. Thought Sam was only reacting to what Dean was doing to him. Doing TO him. Not with him.

Sam was sick of it.

He traced his fingertips up Dean's thigh, over the thin cotton of his boxers, trailed them over the soft curve of Dean's cock. When it fattened beneath his fingers, Sam sucked in a breath through his teeth.

Dean slept on. Lighter sleep now, but still real sleep.

Sam tugged the top of Dean's boxers down, and just looked at Dean's cock in the fading light of the afternoon. Half-hard and getting harder. _beautiful he's beautiful everywhere _Sam settled down on the mattress between Dean's legs and breathed a puff of warm, moist air on his cock.

Dean stirred.

Sam froze.

Dean bent his leg a little further and made a soft chuffing noise that reminded Sam of the horses that lived in the little farm down the road, when Sam gave them slices of apple.

Sam gently slid Dean's boxers down enough to bare his entire cock, now perfectly erect, curving up slightly toward his belly. He brushed his lips across the head. He'd been reading up on how to do this, how to give a perfect blow job. Sam always liked to do his research.

Dean made a small confused sound.

Sam quickly sealed his mouth around the head of Dean's cock and lapped at it.

"Fuck… oh, fuck, Sam. Sam. What are you…"

Sam held Dean's hips to the mattress with his left hand, and pushed his chest back down with the right. "Shut up, Dean. Not gonna stop me this time. Don't even try."

Sam wrapped his lips around Dean's cock and sucked, his big brown eyes boring into Dean's shocked green ones.

"Oh god, Sammy." Dean's head fell back against the pillow. Sam took Dean deeper into his mouth, remembering to keep his mouth nice and wet, keeping the sharp edges of his teeth away from his sensitive flesh. Dean moaned, thighs trembling.

Sam worked his mouth up and down, sucking. It was far from a perfect blow job, but Dean didn't seem to know that. He reached down with both hands, running his fingers through Sam's hair, and spread his thighs wider. "Fuck, that feels so good."

And Sam, as always, beamed under his brother's praise, felt it fill him up with something that felt like helium shot through with bright sparkly bubbles. He pulled his mouth off for a moment _oh god just for a second feels so good in my mouth_ "Wanted to do this for so long."

Dean looked down at Sam, a slow, hopeful realization dawning in his eyes, finally, at long last. "Yeah?"

The sight spurred something inside Sam, something older, more sure, more powerful. "Yeah." He licked up the underside of Dean's cock like an ice cream cone. Dean twitched and groaned. And Sam saw, saw for the first time laid out in front of him like he saw 12 moves ahead when he played a game of chess, exactly how he would take his big, strong brother apart using his mouth and fingers, make him shiver into pieces and beg him, beg Sam, to do what Sam was desperate to do.

"Yeah. Too long. And you're not gonna say no anymore." He did that same ice-cream lick again.

"Fuck. Where'd you learn to do that?"

"Internet." On a whim, Sam tried something else he'd read. He dropped his mouth lower and sucked one of Dean's balls into his mouth, sucking and licking gently, pretending it was a tiny jawbreaker.

Dean hissed, arched his back, and a pulse of pre-come emerged, raindrop-clear, at the tip of his cock.

Sam's sweet little face creased into a grin of such pure delight and incontrovertible pleasure, it brought tears to Dean's eyes.

"You really do want this." Finally, the truth soaked into Dean's bones.

"Been trying to tell you. You didn't make me want you. I wanted you first."

Dean's breath came ragged and out of rhythm, like it did when he struggled not to cry out loud.

"So you're not gonna say no to me anymore, Dean. Not ever again." Sam looked up into Dean's eyes, and wordlessly exacted a promise. A real promise. One they both knew Dean would keep on pain of death or far, far worse.

"Ok, Sammy."

"I want everything. Ok? Want you to do everything. Let me do everything. All of it."

Dean's eyes flared deeper green. "Ok."

"Everything?"

Dean's tongue darted out to swipe across his lower lip. "Everything. Sammy. Yeah. Gonna do everything."

"Say it."

"I promise. Gonna give you everything."

Sam let loose a breathy, satisfied sigh, extended the tip of his tongue and hummingbird-like, lapped up the droplet of pre-come. He made a soft sound of surprise. "Tastes sweet."


End file.
